Gilligan's Island: Lost
by Thor2000
Summary: Gilligan's life and past by the creators of Lost takes up to Gilligan's life after the last reunion movie before the TV series and answers a few mysteries.
1. Chapter 1

One hundred and forty miles north of the Marquesas Islands was a small island about the size of the Hawaiian island of Nihau. Volcanic in origin, it had once served as a home for a lost tribe of Melanesian aborigines, but after that tribe died out, it was a sacred land for the neighboring Papoo and Katuu natives still living on nearby islands. The United States Military briefly used it as a supply post after World War One and through World War Two, but they abandoned the post after 1950 and left behind the old Quonset huts, munitions posts and two derelict planes to be swallowed by the jungle. Citrus trees transplanted there prospered, and a few island creatures introduced there managed to survive. Today, it was a lush island resort owned entirely by Thurston Howell IV, the son of the man who had once been stranded there and had built it. He shared the island with the former castaways as partners. After the loss of both of his parents, they were his extended family and he loved them dearly like the brothers and sisters he always wanted. When they were hurt, he tried to help them, but there were some problems that could not be solved by vast amounts of money.

"Hey, Skipper…" The wiry former first mate had left his hut and head up to the bluff. "Sorry, I'm late, but I almost forgot to take Ginger her mail. She is so busy on the island and off I'm trying to take care of the things she misses. Anyway, I welcomed the new guests with Thurston and checked the supplies. The storm the other night washed away part of the brush around the basketball court so there's less for me to cut, but I've now got a big clean-up job to cover, but I can handle it. Don't get up, you just keep resting." He sighed a bit and sat down on the bench behind him.

"I think it's going to be a nice day." Gilligan continued looking out over the view. "The Professor said we got clear skies for a while with a lot of sun so you've got a good view of it. Just don't get too sunburned there. You know, I wish you could have come with me to meet Mary Ann's family in Kansas… They had so much food that that even you would have been full. Her sister got married you know, some CPA at the bank… he wants me to invest in a seafood restaurant there, but… I don't know. I don't get that stuff. I guess I'll get Thurston to check it out for me…"

"Gilligan?" A sweet voice came from the path and Gilligan turned his head. Clad in her blue jeans and flowered top with her long tresses in a pony tail, Mary Ann came up the hill and lit up to see him spending time with the Skipper. She ascended up next to him past the palm trees and frond leaves by the path and stood in the shade, taking her sat by Gilligan and kissing him to his cheek. The skinny man felt like a boy again next to her.

"Gilligan, we promised we'd have lunch with your sisters." She stroked his silvered hair.

"How do they like their bungalows?"

"They love them." She leaned closer to Gilligan as he wrapped his arm around her. "Will you be long?"

"Not long…" Gilligan looked over to the marker before him. It read, "Captain Jonas Grumby, December 5, 1918 – August 3, 1990. Forever Our Skipper."

"You miss him again, don't you?"

"I do…" Gilligan looked back to her. "I hope that doesn't affect our marriage."

"Gilligan," Mary Ann held her husband's hands. "I would never come between you two…"

With that Gilligan's face alighted with a smile. He was more a man than the boy he was, but he still had that youthful glint to his eyes. In his mind's eye, he was flashing back to his past…

May 11, 1953 – A home in suburban Philadelphia…

"Junior!" A man was calling. "Junior, come here!"

"Coming, pop!!!" The skinny youth was feeding his two guinea pigs, three hamsters, parakeets and tank of fish. His mother always said that her oldest son had been forced out by her younger son's animals. In this split-level Philadelphia suburb, the gawky young man with the tousled dark hair fed and identified his goldfish as Walter, Ralph, Spenser and Seymour. There was a Phil, but he feared he'd made into dinner by Gladys, his sister's white Persian. Not to keep his father waiting, the youth called Junior turned and raced from his room, across the top landing and started down the stairs, missing one and tumbling down on his back. His father turned from his guest to the fracas. Junior was never quite right. He watched the boy spill at the bottom landing with his legs sprawled out and his eyes spinning. All he saw looking up was his father rolling his eyes…

"Junior…." The boy's father took a deep breath and waited for his son to right himself. "This is an old friend of mine from the Navy. Johnny, this is Junior…"

"Hey, there, Junior…" His father's best friend was almost seven feet tall with a round grinning face and two twinkling blue eyes. Topped with blonde hair and powerfully built, he was dressed in his Navy dress uniform and holding his white captain's hat. "Put her there, pal…" He held out a massive hand the size and shape of bread dough. The young man flopped and shook like limp spaghetti to shake the hand of this powerful giant.

"I think I can get some muscle on this little guy!" The Navy Captain laughed amusingly at him. "Come on, son…" Still chuckling, he helped the young lad stop flopping and helped him to his feet.

"Junior," Father looked from his friend to his son. "This is First Captain Jonas Grumby of the United States Navy… We started out together as seamen in San Diego."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Grumby looked the young man up and down. "Your dad said you're just out of high school and interested in joining the Navy just like your old man. Well, I think that's the greatest idea for a boy like you."

"The Navy?" Junior lit up by sticking out his chest. "Oh boy, stow that mizzen mast! Lift that anchor! Stow that bale!" He tried spewing Navy jargon. "All hands on deck! All ashore going ashore…." He ended singing the United States Navy anthem and marching back and forth through the room his father taught music. His father just rolled his eyes again. He faulted himself for immersing Junior in all his old Navy stories. Captain Grumby just lit up with a smile and a chuckle at the boy.

"He's got a lot of spirit!"

"Oh yeah…" Father sat at his desk with his arm propping up his head. "A lot of spirit but little brains…. Johnny, do you think Junior has what it takes to join the Navy?"

"Of course, the Navy can make anyone a man…" He heard a crash. The young man was using a curtain rod as a rifle, turned sharply to practice marching and shattered the window.

"But will the Navy survive him…"

"Of course…" Grumby shined fondly at the boy. "Willie, I was no bigger than him when I joined and look at me now. Almost seven feet tall of pure muscle and the pride of the Navy… I tell you, a boy with that much spirit can be anything he wants! Give me a year, a month… you won't recognize him when I'm through!"

The young man ran out of the room to get a broom and dustpan to clean up the broken glass. Out of the room, through the foyer and past the dining room to get the stuff from the kitchen. As he reemerged from the kitchen, there was a lady's scream and William's son sheepishly appeared trying to act innocent.

"Sorry, mom…"

"Junior," William Gilligan Sr. looked out to the foyer as his boy returned to clean up the broken glass in the study. "Did you whack your mother with the end of the broom?"

"No…" Junior started cleaning his mess in the corner. "But I did…."

"That's a funny boy you got there!" Grumby was laughing so much that his eyes started watering. "But you know…" Grumby looked from his old friend to the young man. "I'm just not crazy about that name, "Junior." I mean, you're not my boy, so I got to call you something else…" He snapped his hot dog sized fingers. "I got it. Since you're the son of my buddy, I'll call you my little buddy; you got that, Little Buddy?"

"Oh boy!" Junior lit up like a bottle rocket.

"But you have to call me Skipper…." Grumby told him. "On my Destroyer, everyone calls me Skipper."

"Skipper!" Junior began practicing. "Permission to join the Navy!" The future first mate hoisted the broom handle up to salute, the tip of it plunging through the ceiling and up through the carpet of his sister's room, vaulting her cat through the air, out her open window and into the neighbor's yard with the Doberman pinscher racing after it.

"Junior!!!!" Dawn Gilligan screamed through the house as she raced down the stairs and out the front door to save her cat from the neighbor's dog.


	2. Chapter 2

2

August 18, 1957 – On maneuvers in the Philippines….

After a few months, the novelty of Ensign William Gilligan Jr. had worn off. For a while he was Ensign Gilligan, but after a while, it was just Gilligan! Everyone yelled it. His fellow ensigns were advancing fast and to other stations, but he was left behind under the Skipper's charge. He was a hard worker, but it took too much time to clean up after him. They were often out at sea for several months, but after the incident with the depth charges, it soon became obvious the boy was one giant two-legged bad luck charm. On the beach near Manila, they were setting up a new Naval post with a radio tower going up. This was Grumby's last hitch. He was going to get out and start an excursion business in Hawaii with his pension. As difficult as Gilligan made things, he was worrying about how Willie's boy would do under another commanding officer.

"Okay, this is new technology created for the Navy by Howell Industries…" The Skipper met up with Gilligan on the Filipino dock amidst Navy ships delivering supplies for the military present to distribute and set up a base. "Even you can't break it. Just load it up and deliver it to Munitions."

"What is it?" Gilligan lifted the uncrated cannon in his arms.

"It's a new type of ground cannon with a laser scope."

"Oh boy!" Gilligan found a large bullet-sized missile that fit the barrel. "Is this what goes in it?" He dropped the shell in it and reacted with a start when it launched. The Skipper heard the loud pop and dropped his paperwork as a stream of vaporized air split the air. Somewhere, the ammo made contact with the ground and a small explosion sounded. The base went on alert looking for the source of the attack.

"You didn't… Please tell me you didn't…" The Skipper looked back at Gilligan.

"Okay… but I kind of did…."

"At least tell me you aimed it over the ocean…"

From skyward was the sound of screeching metal and the radio tower built within ten days was straining, leaning and lying down within ten seconds. The shell had taken out on of its corner support. Without full support, it started leaning and came down beautifully like a fifty-foot woman fainting and laying across the drive to the warehouse, right on top of a supply truck amidst dashing and racing sailors scrambling to get out of its way.

"I wish I could say that, but…."

"Gilligan…. Gilligan… Gilligan…."

Recent…

"Junior!!!" Dawn Williams hugged her rich little brother in the island tavern. During the years her brother was stranded on the island, she had married Greg Williams, her high school love and had two boys, William and Peter. Both of them attended the same Ivy League university that the professor once taught at. When Gilligan was rescued from the island, his celebrity status had lead to commercial endorsements from everything to sneakers to survival gear. The Skipper even briefly endorsed designer yachts and seafood restaurants, but most of their money came from the partnership in the hotel with Mr. Howell.

"The bungalow is wonderful!" Dawn and her brother walked into the tavern together with Mary Ann. She ordered a fruit cocktail and Gilligan ordered his regular grape soda. "I can't believe I waited so long to come visit you."

"I said you'd like it." Gilligan and Mary Ann sat one side of the booth with Barry and Dawn on the other. "Where's Tina?" He looked for his other sister.

"She and Peter have not left their bungalow yet." Greg was sipping his cocktail. "I think this is like a second honeymoon for them."

"It's a shame Robert couldn't have come." Mary Ann asked about her brother-in-law, Gilligan's older brother. "How's his store doing?"

"Much better…" Dawn looked proudly to her brother. "Junior, he wants me to thank you for the loan. He couldn't have done it without your help." She looked round the tiki-oriented tavern decorated with sea nets and ocean memorabilia. "He'll pay you back as soon as possible."

"He doesn't have to do that." Gilligan mused over his ability to help. "I mean… it's only money…"

"Wait a minute!" Thurston Howell IV came racing into the tavern from the restaurant. "Who said a dirty word?! Only money?!!!" He was the son of Thurston Howell III, the man who had built the hotel, and its current owner alongside his father's friends, the brothers and sisters he never had, even if his mother in her scatter-brained existence sometimes forgot he existed.

"Dawn, Greg…" Gilligan alighted with a light grin. "This is Thurston. Mr. Howell's son…" They all began sharing a round of hellos and welcomes to the resort.

"How do you all like the resort?" The heir to the Howell fortune spoke with a nearly identical Harvard accent to his father. "If there's anything I can do for you… Gilligan's family is my family…"

Gilligan's sister liked that welcome and looked to her brother reacting embarrassed. Greg sipped his drink and looked round once then to his brother-in-law.

"No one here calls you Junior?"

"I prefer Gilligan…"

"Well," Dawn Gilligan-Williams solved the mystery. "There's a nice story behind that. You see, when Junior was growing up, our father was "Big Willie" and he was "Little Willie," but by high school, he got so tired of the name, he asked to be called Junior. After he left the Navy, he got so used to just being called Gilligan he stopped using his first name altogether…"

"I like our family name…" Gilligan smiled to his sister.

"I got a mystery for you." Mary Ann spoke up and turned to the Howell's son. "You mother barely spoke of you on the island, and I swear I heard her say once or twice she didn't have a son. When we returned to the civilization, we were all stunned you existed." Mary Ann paused. "I knew Mrs. Howell could be scatter-brained, but still… to forget she had a son…"

"She didn't forget, that was a little game she played with daddy…" Thurston responded as he reflected on his dearly departed parents. "You see, I started boarding school at eight years old and Harvard at thirteen, and I was only home three months out of the year and the holidays. In order to remind father how much she missed me, she always talked about me as nonexistent unless I was home." He paused with a chuckle. "After a while, dear daddy started humoring her because it was much more fun… otherwise they were fighting all the time… I remember one fight they had in Honolulu the night before they were lost at sea…"

"Wait a minute…" Gilligan stopped him there. "I didn't know you were there when we left Honolulu…"

"Mother and father never told you?" Thurston thought back. "Bless their little gold karat hearts…. Yes, I was there on a break from my studies and dad was on a business meeting in Honolulu…."

September 23, 1964 – Honolulu, Hawaii

"Lovee, for the last time, the young lady was a secretary…" Thurston Howell III was lovingly pleading with his wife in the back of a long stretch limousine. "You know you're the only one for me. You're my one true love."

"Mommy, I think daddy means it." Their eighteen-year-old son was with them in the back of the car.

"Thurston, tell your father I'm not talking to him." She tried to remain distracted by the boats rushing past them.

"Daddy, mommy says…"

"Well, you tell your mother…" The Wolf of Wall Street stopped, rolled his eyes and changed expression. "I'm not playing this game..." He took a deep breath, looked at his son for help and shifted closer to his wife. "Lovee, please, do you honestly believe I would fool around on you? I mean… you must have a really low opinion of me to think I would risk twenty years of marriage…"

"Nineteen years of marriage."

"Nineteen years of marriage..." Howell continued. "…to go chasing after some giggling young schoolgirl who can't tell pate foie gras from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." Young Thurston echoed.

"Thurston, stay out of this…" Lovee warned her boy. Both father and son rolled their eyes together trapped in this rolling vehicle for what was supposed to be a pleasure cruise. Rolling along a lane along the rows of boats, it suddenly stopped at the end of a long plank with a sign made from a ship's steering wheel that read, "S.S. Minnow, Island Charter, Exotic Trips, Free Lunches."

"Lovee, look at that charming little yacht out there waiting to take us on a pleasure cruise." He implored and gestured her to look out at the S.S. Minnow. "Please go with me… I see a tall redhead and a little brunette on the boat, and if I go without you, they'll be all over me. Please come and protect me from them."

"Oh, Thurston…" Her heart couldn't stay stony for long. "Of course, I'll come protect you, my big strong man." She turned round to him as if she were a lighted candle. "I'll protect you from those wanton young ladies… I know how irresistible they can be to fight off. I'll protect you with every fiber of my being." She and her husband kissed in front of their boy. The young man loved so much to see them happy together.

"You know you're the only one for me." They kissed again. Lovee felt satisfactorily needed again and gave that satisfied smile back to him. Her husband held her hand and kissed it again. The chauffeur opened his door as young Thurston stepped out first to attend his mother. Thurston Howell III was last to emerge as he stood outside the limo to take a long gasp pf the sea air and then started coughing.

"Young man…" Lovee gestured down the skinny young lad with the red shirt and white hat. "Please load our luggage on the boat."

"All of it?" Gilligan looked at all of it.

"All of it…"

"Yes, all of it…." Young Thurston reminded it. "Every part of its important. Don't forget a piece!" His father was skipping down the gangplank inspecting the boat and looking it over. It may not have been the Queen Mary, but it was his favorite word: "cheap." Gilligan started carrying the Howells luggage on board.

"Gilligan, we shove off in an hour, and… what the Sam hill?" He noticed his first mate carry two suitcases under each arm and another one hanging round his neck. "What's all this?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Howell want it aboard…"

"But it's only a three hour tour! What are they? Crazy?"

"But they want it…"

"It's three hour tour!!!"

"I know!!!" Gilligan stepped on board and briefly blocked the light of Professor Hinkley reading at the stern. Young Mary Ann Summers from Winfield, Kansas dodged the first mate to gain permission from Ginger Grant to sunbath on the deck with her. An annoyed look, a deep breath, and Captain Grumby turned to Mister Howell in the white slacks, blue blazer, red ascot and white yachting cap.

"Excuse me, Mr. Howell?" The Skipper tried to be genial to his guest.

"Yes, captain…"

"Well, it's only a three hour cruise, what do you need all the luggage for?"

"Well, we always change for cocktails!"

"There's no cocktails."

"No cocktails?" Howell was incredulous. "No cocktails before dinner?"

"No sir."

"Well, what about dinner?"

"Well, I got some nice submarine sandwiches from the marina."

"Submarine sandwiches?"

"Mr. Howell…" Gilligan came back on board carrying the second of their five trunks. "I'll split my lunch with you."

"What are you having?"

"Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"Oh good heavens!!!" Howell returned to the dock and returned to his family. She was strolling to meet him while shielded by her parasol, their son with her at her side carrying a basket as the skinny first mate was loading their luggage on the boat. "Lovee, they don't have cocktails on the boat… and for dinner, they have something called submarine sandwiches… You know I hate military food. I can't even stand Navy beans. I always have to have our manservant replace them with jelly beans."

"Oh, Thurston, darling…" Lovee looked to her husband through large sunglasses from under her parasol. "Mommy knows your weak tummy."

"Yes, daddy..." Their son opened the basket. "Mommy has all the essentials… shrimp perfidore, caviar, quail eggs, pheasant under glass, lobster thermodore, chocolate mousse… Just typical ordinary All-American food."

"You always did know when to come prepared." He shined toward her again with a big grin. He took her hand to escort her on the boat. Four more trips, and Gilligan would have the last of the Howell's luggage on board… if he didn't drop it over board.

"Pick up little Fifi at the groomer for me…" Lovee kissed her boy. "I want her to be the first one I see when I get back."

"Yes, mommy…" Her young man kissed her back. "And don't worry, daddy, I'll keep the engine running till you get back…"

"That's my boy!"


	3. Chapter 3

3

March 18, 1973 – On an island in the South Pacific…

A skinny first mate was playing busboy in a white jacket. When he wasn't doing chores, he was actually earning an allowance from the Howells by posing as a servant for them by taking their drink orders and bringing it to them. It was usually the typical papaya and guava drinks with dashes of the liquor the Howells brought with them. The whole time, the Howells spent their time staring out to the sunrise looking for ships to come by the island. Between glances, Mrs. Howell had her books and Mr., Howell had his recurring copies of the Wall Street Journal from the months before the shipwreck. Only the one radio on the island gave him current news.

"Mrs. Howell, more papaya?"

"Yes, Gilligan…"

"Gilligan, what's for dinner tonight?" Mr. Howell asked.

"Trout."

"Isn't that what we had last night?"

"No, last night we had leftovers." Gilligan adjusted Mrs. Howell's pillow and poured her more to drink. She shined fondly toward him. She never knew a young man who tried to hard to be helpful.

"Left over from what?"

"The trout we had the previous night."

"Gilligan, my boy…" Lovee shined on the first mate so much. "You're just like the son I never had." She looked over to her husband with a knowing gaze.

"I've got an idea…" Mr. Howell gestured with his drink. "Let's adopt him again… G. Thurston Howell IV… The sequel!" He started giggling at the notion.

"I think I'm much more happier being just plain old Gilligan!" He tipped his hat out of respect and turned to hurry back to his chores. Lovee watched the boy scampering away and turned to sit in her cot made from bamboo. She took her book to start reading it. It wasn't her type, but reading materials were so scarce. If crates of materials weren't washing up or behind found on the island, she'd have no reading material at all.

"Thurston, do you think we'll ever see our home again?" Lovee looked to her husband.

"Of course," Her husband responded. "We can't stay on this island forever."

"But isn't it odd that out of a hundred and twenty-seven rescue attempts that none of them ever worked?"

"Yes, that does seem to be a pretty high number." He thought about it. "I mean, it's almost as if some force… some… will of the universe is keeping us here."

"Mr. Howell…" Gilligan came hurrying back into the clearing from the compound area. "I heard you calling me. Was there something else?"

Recent….

"Hi guys…" Ginger and her husband, Adam Collins, found Gilligan and his family around the big round table of the Tiki Lounge at the hotel on the island resort. Both Greg and Peter, Gilligan's brothers-in-law, slowly rose to honor Ginger. She looked incredible! A former movie star, the actress had been selling her own line of natural beauty cosmetics and an exercise regime for women. It was kind of her own playful revenge on all the cookbooks Mary Ann had sold over the years. As Mary Ann fattened up America's women, Ginger slimmed them back down. Her six-foot-five-inch tall husband was built like a linebacker, but he was actually an intellectual behind several books on the history of the ancient world and how mythology compared with history. His books rested on the shelves of nearly every amateur archaeologist or serious mythologist. Upon watching their husbands pay tribute to Ginger, Dawn and Tina yanked them back down.

"Sorry, I'm late…" Ginger sat in the chair her husband pulled out for her. "But my exercise class ran long and just had to freshen up before coming…"

"Perfectly fine, Ginger…" Mary Ann sipped her fruit drink. "I ordered you your usual."

"Thank you…"

"We were just talking about some of the stuff in the Professor's book." Gilligan sipped his drink. "It's on the best seller's list again…"

"Gilligan…" Ginger sipped her sherry. "Do we have to talk again about our life on the island? It was so long ago."

"Did you guys hear about the movie?" Peter looked from Tina toward Ginger and then to Gilligan. Some of them knew about it, others did not.

"What movie?" Mary Ann asked.

"They're making a movie about your lives on the island." Peter continued. "I mean… that's why he's in Los Angeles, right?"

"Oh yeah," Dawn looked to her brother and Mary Ann. "I heard about that."

"I thought the Professor was on a seminar." Gilligan looked back and forth between everyone. It was at that moment that dinner was served. It was plates and bowls of island cuisine for everyone to take from. Mary Ann started with vegetables, and Dawn helped herself to poi and fruits. The rest dived into the fish and seafood. Ginger hesitated before scooping a ladle of steamed vegetables and baked fish.

"What's this about a movie?" Ginger asked.

"The guy behind those Leslie Nielsen movies is adapting a movie from the Professor's books." Peter took some vegetables for appearances sake but what he really preferred were the lobster legs. "You ought to hear who he's lined up for the cast…"

"Who?" Mary Ann was excited to hear about it.

"Zack Braff as Gilligan…" Peter revealed. "You know, that guy from _Scrubs_?"

Gilligan and Mary Ann looked at each other.

"Oh god…" Gilligan dropped his spoon, mused about it with an embarrassed chuckle and tried to hide behind his hand to his forehead.

"Michael Chiklis as the Skipper…" Peter went on.

"_The Commish_?" Gilligan started smiling. He loved that show from what he saw of it.

"You know him?" Peter was cracking his lobster legs for the meat. "Uh, they got Steve Martin and Bonnie Hunt as the Howells."

"They were excellent together in those _Cheaper By The Dozen_ movies." Greg commented. Mary Ann was giggling a bit, but Ginger was more interested in who was playing herself. She had paused and was waiting for Peter to get to the actress she wanted to hear about.

"Drew Barrymore as Ginger…"

"No… no, no, no, no…" Ginger lightly gasped her response and grabbed her cell phone at that moment to call her agent. Reese Witherspoon, maybe. Kate Winslet, of course. She might even settle for Julianne Moore, but for the love of God, not… _Drew Barrymore_!

"Matthew Perry as the Professor…"

"Oh god…" Dawn had nearly choked on her drink. "I just pictured the Professor on _Friends_!"

"And, Mary Ann, how do you feel about Christina Ricci as yourself…"

"Christina Ricci?" Mary Ann looked to Gilligan smiling at her at chuckling. She looked alarmed. Her husband was beaming and giggling and pointing at her. "What about Lacey Chabert? Jennifer Love Hewitt? Alyssa Milano? Ginger, do you have your agent on the phone?"

"I got his assistant."

"Could have been worse…" Greg looked round the table. "I heard Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson were almost the Mary Ann and Ginger." Gilligan suddenly choked back a laugh. Husband or not now, Mary Ann start playfully slapping him with his cap the same way the Skipper used to hit him.

"Marty…" Ginger was getting impatient with her manager. "Pick up that phone…."

"Junior…" Tina had come round and squeezed her brother lovingly. "You're going to be famous!"

"I don't want to be famous!" Gilligan was shaking his head. "I haven't been to the mainland in years! That's why I stay here on the island." He leaned back in his seat, hand over his eyes and Mary Ann lovingly rubbing his leg to support him. "I'm going to see myself swimming in the lagoon, struck by lightning, running from natives, getting hit by the Skipper's hat and Ginger coming on to me on the big screen."

"What?" Adam suddenly looked up from enjoying this conversation. He looked to his wife. She had never told him about herself ever being romantically involved with Gilligan.

"It was nothing…"

October 3, 1976 – Same island, several years ago….

At thirty-nine, Ginger was still vivaciously stunning. Her hair was longer, living on the island had made her thinner and she was possibly even more fit than she had ever been. She came from the path and into the clearing, lightly tugged her thirty-seven inch size bust up by her dress and walked provocatively over to Gilligan standing guard at the supply hut. Sitting in a bamboo chair, leaning back against the door, the first mate was carving a piece of wood into a small ship. At least, that's what he hoped. All his ship carvings from driftwood turned out to look like canoes. As he carved, two long legs came into his line of view and he looked from them up and up and up, like a little boy to Ginger standing before him. Garbed in a white dress from an old duffel bag, the words S.S. Minnow running up her right leg, she exhaled deeply, her breath lightly gliding through her lips. Her eyes lined with handmade mascara lightly closed to sensual openings from which she looked at him.

"Gilligan…" Her voice cooed breathlessly. "Why are you sitting here? Shouldn't you be out hunting with the Skipper and the Professor?"

"They left me to guard the supply hut." He dropped his comic book and stood up to her.

"Well," Ginger slinked slowly closer to him. "Is it okay if I slip in and get myself a itty-biddy-little snack?"

"What kind of itty-biddy-little snack?" Gilligan felt her body against his. Her lips tilting up to his as she embraced him.

"Oh, just an itty-biddy-little snack…" Ginger was gazing deeply into his eyes.

"But Ginger…" Gilligan tried to keep his post. He really did. "We're in the middle of a food shortage. The Skipper and Professor we'll be back from foraging on the other side of…"

"Just an itty-biddy-little snack…" Ginger cooed softly as if she was Gilligan's mother and he was a little boy. He did feel like a little boy before her… a very scared little boy…

"Well, maybe just an itty-biddy-little snack…" Gilligan relented as she had him pinned to the hut, but as he turned to open the door to the door, he suddenly revealed the Skipper standing in the way, over six feet tall, blue short, black captain's hat and his disgruntled arms crossed upset across his chest. Ginger shrieked a tiny little squeak and stood guilty upon being discovered and manipulating Gilligan.

"No, Ginger, not even a itty-biddy-little snack…" He chided the voluptuous screen goddess.

"Where'd you come from?" Gilligan was taken aback.

"The back door."

"There's no back door on the supply hut."

"There is now!!!"


	4. Chapter 4

4

March 13, 1972 – On an island nearby…

"You castaways think you can outsmart me…" Dr. Boris Balingkoff had seized the castaways to use as guinea pigs again. He had swapped their bodies with each other, turned them to zombies and children, made their skin turn green and even changed the weather over the island into snow, but this had been his most insidious plan yet. Using a nuclear-powered device, he had shunted their molecules into another dimension, turning them all into little people just six inches tall, but when Gilligan freed himself and the others, they made it back to the lab and turned themselves back to normal. Now Gilligan wanted to use the invention on Balingkoff himself.

"Gilligan, I think you're holding it backwards!!!" The Professor was waving his hands at the first mate not to push the button, but it was too late. Gilligan was trying the shrink Balingkoff down to six inches tall like he had just been, but not only was he holding it the wrong way, but he neglected to change the settings from "increase" to "decrease." He aimed it at the crazy mad scientist, flipped the switch and looked at Balingkoff hitting the floor of his castle laboratory. Behind the first mate, the Skipper had heard the Professor and jumped out of the way. Mr. Howell pulled his wife to the side and Ginger suddenly looked surprised and dropped her compact from checking her make-up. She felt the tingle of energy through her body again and this time the experience of her blue dress popping and ripping apart along its seams as the room started getting smaller and narrower on her. When she was eleven, she had played Alice in the movie, "Through The Looking Glass" by Lewis Carroll, but that special effect was done with sliding walls, a descending ceiling and an extreme camera angle. As an adult, she was living the real thing! Her dress was popping off her body, and her friends and the wily doctor were scattering in fear as her head hit the ceiling, her shoulders struck both sides of the room and her legs were forced doubled up under her body. The room just literally shrunk down around her and popped apart around her body, collapsing the stairway from right under the Skipper, dropping half the parlor on the first floor and covering Ginger in several tons of splinter-shaped sections of debris all across her thirty-foot tall body occupying the space of the basement laboratory, first floor parlor and part of the foyer. Her arms crossed over her chest, her legs pulled up close, her round eyes looked with hysterical shock at what had happened to her.

"Gilligan!!!!" Her thunderous voice echoed over Balingkoff's island. The Skipper pounded Gilligan with his hat.

Recent….

"It was the most humiliating experience of my life…" Ginger sat with Gilligan and his relatives. "Since that day, I've always been an inch and a half taller than I was when I first met Gilligan."

"What ever happened to that guy?" Greg asked.

"He returned back to the island about a year after the hotel opened and was nabbed by Federal agents." Mary Ann added as she sipped her after dinner coffee. "He was nuts…"

"That wasn't in the Professor's book." Peter revealed.

"There was a lot of crazy stuff the Professor didn't include." Gilligan leaned back in his Hawaiian shirt. "Particularly stuff that didn't make a lot of scientific sense like that lightning bolt that made me invisible…."

"Rings that made us zombies…" Mary Ann added.

"Hello friends…" The round table joined by the Professor strolling into the Tiki Lounge. Everyone turned and looked to the scholarly Roy Hinkley looking over the table. He had become heavier since returning to civilization, but he had stayed very busy besides his personal research and writing projects. Clad in a white shirt, tan pants and a light jacket, he scanned his friends new and old and beamed his proud but happy grin across to them as they looked him over.

"How's the movie going along?" Gilligan asked.

"Swimmingly…" The Professor confessed. "You know, I just never knew there was so much politics in Hollywood. They want to add so much weird stuff to our ordeals."

"Like what?" Dawn asked.

"Like Gilligan meeting a dinosaur in the jungle…" The Professor revealed. Gilligan hopped up a second as he scoffed at the notion. "Or some business with the island existing in another plane of existence… I mean, crazy stuff like that." He looked to Ginger. "Ginger, has Hollywood always been that bad?"

"All I know is…" She sipped her alcoholic fruit drink. "I do not want to be played by Drew Barrymore." Adam looked over to her fondly. They had been married for almost twenty years now. She had met him during a movie in Hawaii, he had purposed to her on the island. What she liked about him was that he had more of a brain that anyone else she had ever dated. Sort of like someone else she once had feelings for…

"Professor, we still have plenty of food left." Mary Ann invited him. "Why don't you join us?"

"Oh, no, no…" Hinkley gently resisted their offer even as the others coaxed him in unison. "I ate on the plane. Besides, I'd really like to get to my bungalow and get some rest. I just bought this book about the connections of lepidoptera mating with the alterations in periodical atmospheric changes in the environment, and I got to tell you, I just can't put it down."

"I could…" Gilligan echoed.

Mary Ann chuckled and gave Gilligan a kiss to his cheek. Quite a bit matured, he still had a slight trace of the shy schoolboy he used to be. As his wife, that was the part Mary Ann liked most about him. She had dated so many guys who were most involved in getting her out of her clothes. To have someone who really loved and cared for her, that was truly special…

September 18, 1964 – Horner's Corners, a farming community near Winfield, Kansas…

"Mary Ann…" Elmer Summers looked upon his beautiful daughter. The lovely brunette was packing her bags for a Hawaiian vacation she had won in the local town raffle. In town, she was known as the clerk in the Winfield General Store, but in her community, she was the youngest of Elmer's seven kids. Two older sons were in the Marines, one daughter was married and the rest worked on the farm with him taking care of the cows, horses and chickens when she was not helping her Aunt Martha in the kitchen. Elmer was so going to miss her pumpkin pie while she was gone.

"Honey, I'm going to miss you badly while you're gone." Father wandered into his daughter's simple bedroom. "Couldn't you take this trip another time when we're not in the middle of so many chores?"

"Oh, daddy…" Mary Ann hugged him. "The prize has a fixed date or else I have to forfeit. I leave today and come back in two weeks." You looked at him excitedly and noticed her sewing basket on her bed stand. She might need that on her trip.

"But what about that Ruckers boy…" Elmer tried to act more worried for her. "You promised to marry him. He's going to think you're running out on him."

"We haven't even set a date." Mary Ann struggled with her case, but her father took it and she carried her sewing kit. It'd be perfect to carry the sandwiches her Aunt Martha had made for her. "Herbie knows I'm coming back… he's just scared I'm going to marry some sailor or island boy. He's just being silly."

"It's a different world out there." Elmer told his little girl. "You've never been out of Kansas. People are different out there."

"Maybe it's a good time for me to find out…" Mary Ann took three ham sandwiches and a container of tomato and cucumber salad from the icebox for her trip. "Maybe while I'm in Los Angeles Airport I'll meet some movie stars, like maybe Ginger Grant!"

"Is that the one you're brother Billy Ray wants to marry and bring to the farm?"

"No, that's Jayne Mansfield."

"Didn't she just pass away recently?"

"That was Marilyn Munroe."

"The redhead from that movie set at the beach."

"That was Ginger." Mary Ann heard honking coming from the driveway. It was her ride. "Remember? Cousin Miley wanted red hair after seeing her."

"I remember now." Elmer realized. "It took us a week to talk her out of it." He followed his daughter out on to the front porch. Their farmhouse was right on Route 32 surrounded by cornfields and wheat fields separated by dirt roads and cattle paths. Their home was on a green acre of land with a big yard enjoyed by barbecues. With the shuttle driver loading her case, Mary Ann held on to her sewing kit with her sandwiches inside and a book or two. She loved romance novels; she couldn't live without them. In the back of her mind, she was hoping for an adventure."

"Baby, while you're out there…" Elmer acted abashedly insecure as his girl stepped into the side of the van. "Could you get me one of those dancing hula girl dolls for the dashboard of the truck?" He whispered to her. "I had one from Korea, but your mother tossed it."

"Sure, daddy…" She kissed him and hopped up on to the shuttle bus for the airport. Everything in this fully paid vacation from her trip to the airport and from it to her hotel in Hawaii was paid for by Howell Industries. The contest was advance publicity with the company buying the closed lumber mill and building a resort on the site. The resort would be good for the community. It only had a population of 581 since 1958; it was about time something good happened here. For Mary Ann, it was already beginning…

Elmer watched the bus drive backward from their driveway, gravel and pebbles churning up as it nearly hit their mailbox. Backward on to the two-way asphalt road, it was pulling away with Mary Ann waving good-bye out the back. Elmer raised his right hand and tried to catch the image of her face heading away.

"I got that thing after a night of drinking in Tokyo with that fat sailor…" He began mumbling under his breath as headed off to see if his boys had fed the pigs. "What was his name again? Grumby? Grumbly? Grumpy?"


	5. Chapter 5

5

Recently in Los Angeles…

"This is what we got." Walt Dindemeyer was an assistant producer for David Zucker. "We changed the script. Gilligan goes into the jungle and guess what he finds?"

"Not a dinosaur!" Professor Hinkley cringed. "Please, gentlemen, I know _Jurassic Park_ was a famous movie, but the scientific presumptions in it were preposterous, imponderous and incredibly dubious. I don't understand why you'd be interested in my book if you're not going to stay faithful to it."

"Roy," Mel Schwartz was the Professor's colleague from Stanford University. A writer, a literary scholar and author himself with a few screenplays to his credit, he was guiding his friend through the process. "They're just much more interested in making the movie more interesting."

"No dinosaur!" Dindemeyer and his writers were pitching ideas. "We got something else. Gilligan goes into the jungle and finds this weird hatch in the ground. The question is: who built it? Why is it there? What is it doing there?"

"A hatch?" The Professor was incredulous. "And what about the weird voices following Ginger? Are the ghosts of previous castaways? Some strange… community of outcasts? Why don't you throw in a polar bear?"

"Actually…" Writer Leon Ramis thought a moment. "I was thinking about a big smoke monster…"

"Smoke monster?" Professor Hinkley was losing it. He shook his head back and forth. "Gentlemen, what is wrong about a good dramatic tale about seven castaways just trying to struggle to survive. I mean, the events we experienced, the storms, the natives, the droughts…"

"Audiences like stuff that entertain them." Writer Egon Spicoli spoke up. "They like fresh new stuff."

"Gentlemen…"

"Roy, believe us…" Walt was trying to satisfy the Professor. "It will be faithful to the book."

"Whose book?" The Professor worried.

"Your book!"

"Make me believe it!"

"Roy…" Mel picked up one of the scripts on the table of the boardroom. "I read this one and thought it was very good."

"Yes," Walt agreed. "That one was by a very talented screenwriter named Jim Abrahams. He wrote this treatment almost entirely from your book."

"I agree…" The Professor sighed and fidgeted in his seat from angst. "It was very good, but I thought my character came across as wooden and antisocial, and Gilligan. He wrote Gilligan as some kind of… nincompoop. And Ginger… she'd never come on to Mr. Howell! He's a married man! The real Mary Ann is much more sweet and innocent that the character portrayed here."

"It's a work in progress."

"It's not even in the pupa stage." The Professor commented. "Gentlemen, you promised… faithful."

"Yes, we did…" The two writers rose and wandered out of the room discouraged. Dindemeyer tiredly exhaled and looked to them. "Look, we'll rework the script then give you final approval."

"Thank you…" The Professor sat hoping for the best. "And please, no dinosaurs, sea serpents or hidden agendas."

"Yes…" The studio honcho excused himself. Left at the table, Hinkley turned to his colleague.

"Mel…"

"Roy, these people know what they're doing."

"The made Mary Ann sound more like Ginger." He voiced his distaste.

"They spiced her up a little bit."

"They made Ginger sound like a call girl."

"They made her interesting."

"They made the Skipper sound like a tyrant."

"They exaggerated his character."

"They made me sound like a pompous windbag who uses his intellect to sound more important."

Mel pretended to be distracted by the hydrangea plant next to him in the meeting room.

"Mel?" The professor tapped his colleague on the shoulder. "Mel? Mel?…"

September 22, 2004 – the airport at Sydney, Australia –

Off the island, the professor was often on tours describing his past on the island, mostly for lessons on survival as he shipped the island inventions as exhibits, or giving speeches on the native Maori and Papuan tribes encountered on the island, but mostly, the science students asked much more mundane questions about the giant spider, Gilligan becoming invisible and why so many people could find the island and leave without revealing it. The most infamous was the late Erica Tiffany Smith who had passed away in 1995. The truth of the matter was that most of those people had ulterior motives to keep their experiences secret, and the rest… they were affected by circumstances or distracted by selfish desires. Take for example Michael Walton. He survived on the island for years as a wild boy before getting used to the castaways and becoming friends with them. When he left in the balloon, it took several weeks before he could read and write and tell the authorities where he had come from. He was adopted and named by the Waltons, a straight student and made college on a football scholarship. It was not till the castaways were off the island in 1978 that he actually remembered them and contacted them again, not as the illiterate "Jungle Boy" they knew and cared for, but as the tall and handsome physical fitness instructor he had become.

Of the others, Wrong Way Feldman and Harold Hecuba had both passed away years prior to the castaways coming home, Jackson Farrell and Norbert Wiley were doing prison sentences and Boris Balingkoff was off the charts. No one knew what happened to the crazy scientist once the Feds had him. Mr. Howell had launched lawsuits on behalf of the other castaways against George Barkley, Eva Grubb, Johnathan Kincaid and Sidney "Bongo" McFarland, the last surviving member of the Mosquitoes, ruining their lives for not rescuing them years before. Declassified government records showed the Russians had knowledge of the castaways, but the CIA hadn't connected the files to the castaways until after the professor's book. Sitting and writing notes for his fifth and last book on his experiences, Roy Hinkley looked up to a young man who had come to meet him.

"Excuse me, Professor Hinkley…"

"Yes," The Professor looked up.

"I recognized you from your book about living on the island." The young twenty-something responded earnestly to be meeting the famous professor, survivalist and scoutmaster. "I thought it was great. I actually read it cover to cover within two days; it was that engrossing."

"I'm glad you liked it!"

"Did all that stuff really happen?" The young man looked to a beautiful blonde standing by him with obvious disdain. "I mean, the volcano, the jungle boy, the robot, the ghost…"

"It really happened…" The Professor looked up. "But to tell the truth… as I look back from today, sometimes I'm not a hundred percent sure myself." He chuckled a bit and returned his notebook to his travel case.

"Would you autograph this copy?" The fan revealed a copy of the book from the bookstore in the airport.

"Sure!" The jovial professor pulled out his pen. "So, you guys on the plane for Hawaii?"

"Oh… no, we're on Oceanic Air bound for Los Angeles." The young man watched the professor sign his name.

"Who do you want me to make this out to?"

"Boone… Boone Carlisle…" The fan introduced himself and his traveling companion. "This is my step-sister, Shannon Rutherford…" His blonde sister just barely said hello as she waited behind her brother. All she could muster was a forced wave.

"Good to meet you too…" Professor Hinkley lit up to meet anyone who appreciated his book. "I hope you enjoy your flight."

August 18, 1990 – The island sometime after the last rescue…

Younger, but not in very good shape, the Professor retired to his hut. The kids of the guests loved the camping, but they had little patience for the scientific attributes of the island. A few liked how to survive, but many of them had questions about his island experiences with the lion, gorilla, natives and even the giant spider. As he wearily neared his hut, the Professor drank the last of the water from his canteen, rubbed his neck and then yawned.

"Hey, Professor…" Gilligan was sitting at the picnic table of bamboo as he approached. Garbed in that old red shirt with blue jeans and his white cap, he jumped up to meet the weary scoutmaster. "I wasn't sure when you'd get back. Would you like to go play darts at the commissary?"

"Darts?" Hinkley responded tired and confused and lifted his watched to the moonlight. "Gilligan, it's fifteen minutes until midnight!"

"That's okay, I got the key!" Gilligan lifted a large ring as round as his head completely filled with keys and jiggled it excitedly. His Peter Pan complex of staying a boy was as strong as ever, but Hinkley was not ten years old anymore. He was nearing seventy and needed his rest.

"Gilligan, please…" He turned to his hut.

"Okay," Gilligan raced around in front of him again. "How about checkers? Bowling? Oh, there a new video game at the arcade… wait'll you see my high score!"

"Gilligan…"

"Okay, okay…" The former first mate finally gave in. "I'll open the golf course, but only because you really want it."

"I've got to talk to the cooks about the sugar in your diet…" Hinkley rubbed his neck and held his head as if he had a headache.

"Of course…" Gilligan was still racing. "As dark as it is, we'll need torches on the sand trap…"

"Gilligan, please…" The Professor was very tired. "I know you're grieving for the Skipper, but I'm very tired. Look, why don't you go see what Thurston is doing."

"He told me to check with you." Gilligan confessed. "Hey, why don't we play chess? I'll let you be black."

"Gilligan, do me a favor…" Both the Professor and Ginger had been trying to get Gilligan interested in dating Mary Ann. "Go to bed and in the morning, go have breakfast with Mary Ann. She's been inviting you for weeks!"

"With Mary Ann????"

"Gilligan…" The Professor yawned and leaned backward on the door to his hut. "All those years you and the Skipper were friends, didn't you two ever talk of getting married."

"With each other???"

"Not each other, Gilligan!" The Professor had just enough energy to get angrily frustrated. "With girls! Look, Mary Ann's has had a crush on you for years! She's always thought you were someday going to be a man and marry her, but she won't wait for you forever…. Gilligan, I can't be a replacement for the Skipper, and I know you're grieving for him, but Mary Ann can be the next best thing… a wife."

"Well," Gilligan reacted unsure and a bit scared. "I like Mary Ann, I like her a lot…"

"Go for her, Gilligan…" The Professor slipped into his hut, closed the door and looked out the window. "But in the morning… not now…" He blew off his candle to get into bed and fall asleep. Outside, Gilligan sighed and took in a deep breath of the clean island air. He turned away, looking back a second and then headed away past the old table and toward the lagoon for where the path crossed the perimeter path around the perimeter of the island. Alone and bored, all he had to accompany him were the trees, the coconuts underfoot and the stars overhead. He stopped on the path to the huts. From here, he could head to the high area where Ginger and her husband lived on the north end of the island. The Professor lived behind him beyond the lagoon, and Thurston lived in the Mansion near the hotel. Down the other path, he and Mary Ann and her bungalow had the nice view of the ocean where they so long ago once lit signal fires to get the attention of passing ships. As he stood and wondered his destiny in the darkened crossroads, clouds came over and blocked the moon making things much more dark. There were no sounds of anything in the forest. The island was dark and all he had was the patches of endless night not being blocked by the canopy of palm trees and jungle foliage. Despite being alone, he felt something else near him. His name was William Sherwood Gilligan, sometimes called "Willie," "Buddy" or "Junior," and he was hearing whispering from the old commune area. It was not just one voice, it was several of them overlapping. They seemed to be coming from the trees. Twenty years ago, he would have run screaming and jumping into the Skipper's arms, but today he was a grown man in late middle age with grayish white hair and the Skipper was long gone. Trying to sneak up on the voices, he inched nervously to the bushes and peered close to the beach where he once again saw the old Minnow stranded on the beach, the bow pointed eagerly toward the surf. That was impossible… Its last fragments were scattered several dozen thunderstorms ago. His blue eyes struggled as he peered through the dark to the tall figure of a man walking around the beached craft and looking up the cliff side to him.

"Come on, little buddy…" It was the Skipper's voice. "We still got work to do if we're going to make the tide!"

"Skipper?" Gilligan wandered stunned down to the beach.

"What's the matter?" The jolly old captain saw the look in his little buddy. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"But you… you're… you're dead…" Gilligan was unsure of just what he was seeing. He was on the beach at low tide and he was with the Skipper again. He was just as tall and proud a figure as he recalled, but it couldn't be. Every mannerism was right… that walk, that big grin, the way they looked at each other.

"Why I never felt so good in all my entire life!" He scoffed at Gilligan's notion with a jolly chuckle. "Look, we got a lot of work if we're going back to Honolulu harbor to get…"

"Skipper…" Gilligan climbed up the ladder off the deck to be with his mentor. "Skipper," He reached and touched him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?" The Skipper looked at him a bit confused, removed his cap confused and scratched his head. "Well, I guess because you needed me." He looked back to Gilligan with a trusting grin. "Little buddy, why don't you sit down…" He motioned to the seats on board. The wiry former first mate sat down as the Skipper sat across from him. The beach was dark except for distant lights. The air was tinged with blue to dark blue and despite the shadows Gilligan didn't feel scared. Even when he was in trouble in the past, he knew the Skipper would never hurt him. Even when he yelled, there was a lot of love in his voice.

"Gilligan, we were together a long time…" The Skipper began. "I knew you even longer than your own dad; I even got to know you better than him, but, little buddy, it's time to grow up and you got to be a man. You've got to stand on your own two feet. That's what I tried teaching you all the time I knew you. I'm not going to be there to cover your disasters… for better or worse, you've have to clean up your own messes from now on. I can't live your life for you."

"But…" Gilligan stammered. "But… I'm not ready to say good-bye just yet."

"Well," His old friend chuckled a bit. "Let's just say… "Aloha…" It means both "hello" and "good-bye," but either way, it means "peace," and, little buddy, I want you to find your peace. It's time for you to replace me and take care of Mary Ann. After all, the Howells took care of their son and he's okay, the Professor doesn't need anyone's help, he's got himself. Ginger now has Adam… Who does Mary Ann have?"

"The Professor?"

"No, not the Professor…" Grumby pointed to him. "It's time for you to be the Skipper."

"But I can't be the Skipper, Skipper…" Gilligan responded. "You're the Skipper."

"But I can't stay, Gilligan…" The captain leaned to him like a caring father. "I'm going to be busy. You have to follow through where I left off." He rose and started taking up lines as the tide came in. "Oh, and Gilligan…" The Skipper shined down to him with that grin. "Come and talk to me on the hill once in a while… I'm always listening."

"The hill?"

"Tide's coming in…"

Gilligan looked again and found himself sitting on a dune on the beach. The rushing tide was up to his ankles as he fretted, snapped to and hastened his way out of the water and inland to the incline up to the path. His feet wet, a tear falling down his face, he looked round once trying to figure out what had happened to him. The surf thundered with the force and fury of a storm. Sea birds shrieked as if they were mythological creatures, and the cold night air swayed the tall palm trees in a singing chorus beckoning sailors from the sea. Wincing from the cold freezing his toes and ankles, he sloshed up just in time to avoid being abducted by the swelling surf pounding the land. When he looked back, he saw a tiny ship being controlled by a figure brave and sure heading out to sea back for Honolulu. From the captain's seat, Gilligan could see a figure waving to him from the deck…

"Aloha, Skipper…." Gilligan voice quivered. "Aloha…"

END


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